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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30096348">drowning lessons</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphabetblues/pseuds/alphabetblues'>alphabetblues</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>blue's parkner cinematic universe [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man 3 (2013), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Addiction, Aged-Up Harley Keener, Aged-Up Peter Parker, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Banter, Blowjobs, Depression, Drowning Lessons, Drug Addict Harley, Dubious Consent, Falling In Love, Fluff, Getting Together, Graphic Depiction of a Drug Overdose, Graphic Drug usage, Graphic Usage of Opioids, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Harley's Nirvana Hoodie is a character, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Partying, Purchasing of Drugs, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags Are Hard, The Euphoria Fic, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Underage Drinking, brief mentions of forced prostitution, drug overdose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:21:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,670</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30096348</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphabetblues/pseuds/alphabetblues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.</em>
</p><p>In which Harley takes pills, listens to Nirvana, and doesn't want to be alive anymore.</p><p>Falling for Peter is easier than breathing, and also the least of his problems. </p><p>(Also known as the <em>Parkner Euphoria Fic</em>)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harley Keener/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>blue's parkner cinematic universe [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053995</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Devil and God Are Raging Inside of Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First and foremost, this fic shows a graphic depiction of addiction and drug usage. It shows the hardships and honesty of developing an opioid addiction. Please don't read if those topics can be triggering for you, as there are scenes in this with people doing drugs, discussing drugs, and there is a graphic overdose. If you, or anyone you know are suffering from any sort of addiction I want you to know that you're not alone, and that help is out there. You can always call 1-800-662-4357 in the US for help.</p><p>I don't even know where to begin in talking about this fic. I came up with the idea for this fic at the end of September in 2020 and it hasn't left my head since. Originally, I didn't plan to write it because it seemed too daunting. I quickly realized that I had to write it because I was the only one who would, or could. Ever since this fic has quite literally become my baby. It is so incredibly special to me and I hope it becomes as equally special to you too. </p><p>Drowning Lessons has lovingly been dubbed "The Parkner Euphoria Fic," a title which I gleam at with pride. I would like to extend my thanks to every person who has come on and read the google doc while it's been in its draft phase. I still have so much more to write, and I can't wait to share this journey with you guys too. This fic probably wouldn't have gotten to where it is without y'all's constant encouragement. CJ, Maia, Livvi, Gray, Halo, Emmett, Shannon, Beth, Unsettled, and Sheps - Thank you. </p><p>Sage, you know. You've been pushing for this since I ever breathed my first words about it. Thank you for sacrificing so many hours listening to me talk everything out and read it to you, and for all the hours in the future until the day this bad boy is finally finished. I love you and I love being the comeback kids. </p><p>Lastly, V. What would I do without you? My Harley wouldn't exist without you. Our entire friendship was started because of this fic. Not only is this the best thing I've created, it brought me you, and that's the best thing in and of itself. Can't imagine existing in this space without telling you all of my Harley ideas while listening to yours. I absolutely cannot create something now without first getting the V Stamp of Approval. Thanks for letting me send you every snippet as I write it and for always saying exactly what I need to hear when I need to hear it. </p><p>It's daunting having this no longer be mine - but, it's yours now, and that's something beautiful. </p><p>Each chapter will be accompanied by an excerpt of a literature selection, and a mini-mix.</p><p>  <a href="https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLV9UiZdIJdG60MiDo87dWi18QuJo7VJ7X">Mix 1; Chapter 1</a><br/></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>The Pool Players.<br/>
Seven at the Golden Shovel.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>            We real cool. We<br/>
Left school. We</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>            Lurk late. We<br/>
Strike straight. We</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>            Sing sin. We<br/>
Thin gin. We</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>            Jazz June. We<br/>
Die soon.</em></p>
  <p>
    <em></em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em></em>
  </p>
  <p><em> - Gwendolyn Brooks</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life. </p><p>He was 14, and it was his first party. Well, not his <em>first</em> party, but his first party with actual high schoolers that involved booze that wasn’t snuck out from a parent’s meticulous liquor cabinet. Harley though, didn’t have much of a taste for alcohol.</p><p>The smell of beer on people’s clothes was tainted by memories of his Father. He’d had his first beer when he was 10, given to him by his Uncle with strict orders not to tell his Mother. It was bitter, rancid, and burned as it went down and Harley couldn’t understand how people loved this stuff. Or how his Father had chosen this over their family.</p><p>The party was a little ways out from the main road and tucked behind a line of trees that led to a few rolling fields of corn. It was October, and there was a slight chill in the air. The corn had been combined at the end of summer, leaving a desecrated patch of land in its wake. By the time next summer rolled around, there would be stalks nearly as tall as Harley. He was fascinated by the cycle of it all. </p><p>Technically, there wasn’t supposed to be any freshman at the party, but he had weaseled an invite from his friend Joey’s older brother, Mike, as long as he followed his strict orders to “be cool.” Harley could do that. </p><p>When Harley made his way into the house he watched the different crowds of upperclassmen interact. Some were dancing to the loud thumping of the music playing from the speakers by the TV in the living room, while others were huddled into tight groups, either drinking, or passing a joint around. An ache settled inside Harley’s chest.</p><p>Harley committed to his role of being a wallflower and held back from all of the groups as he made his way through the house. He had sat on the couch for close to a half-hour when someone passed him a joint and told him to take a hit. Harley did, and was careful not to choke so he didn’t look green at his first-ever real party. </p><p>The joint in question got passed around their circle a few more times until someone put it out. At that point, Harley had taken several puffs and was starting to feel light-headed and fuzzy, but in a good way. </p><p>The ache in his chest morphed - it spread warmth over Harley’s ribs and clavicle, but it still burned. </p><p>Harley floated through the house afterwards, giggling at nothing, and took whatever was offered. He drank something bitter and sour that made him want to hurl before he was passed something sickly sweet but felt like acid as it washed down. When he finally stumbled out of the house he felt a happy buzz wash over him. He could barely feel the cold nip of the air, and goosebumps raised all up along his arms. </p><p>He found his bike where he had discarded it on the grass lawn when he arrived. It was hard to see in the dark, especially with his head swimming, but he managed to pull his bike onto the road. The wind of the night air blew through his shaggy overgrown hair as it fell in his eyes. He biked down the eerily quiet streets of his hometown as the persistent aching in his chest eventually subsided, for the first time since it had arrived. No one was around, and his ears were filled with static due to the lack of sound - a sharp contrast from the thudding bass of the party. </p><p>He fell off his bike twice before he got home, and winced as his elbow got scratched up from the gravel. But instead of being frightened, he was elated, he couldn't really <em>feel</em> it. He snuck back into his room through the window he kept unlocked for that exact purpose, and made sure to be as quiet as possible, even though the motor functions in his hand were failing him and it took him multiple tries to get his window up. </p><p>He changed his clothes, noting how they smelled, and buried them deep into the bottom of his hamper so his Mom wouldn’t get suspicious. When he finally collapsed onto his bed he felt sated. He was warm, and the rocking of his bed from his head spinning as he closed his eyes lulled him to sleep. </p><p>It was probably the best sleep he’d gotten in years. </p><p>That was the start, but it wasn’t the beginning. </p><p>The beginning was not quite a year later, at the start of summer break. He was invited to a pool party by Mike’s friends. As soon as the sun went down they all changed out of their bathing suits and into t-shirts, and shorts. They relocated to Maddy’s basement - the girl who had been throwing the party. Harley was expecting the alcohol, and the weed. He’d gotten used to it by now, and even knew how to roll one of the best joints in town. He kept a stash in a sealed bag buried deep inside his nightstand that he would pull out and smoke in the backyard by the shed whenever things got overwhelming. Or, for when that well-known emptiness crept into his veins, that instead of making him angry, just made him sad, and desolate. </p><p>He was used to the weed, but the pills were something new. He was halfway through a joint that he had matched with a girl he vaguely recognized. She had introduced herself as “Tasha” when one of Mike’s friends stumbled over and sat down next to him. Harley passed the joint over to Tasha. His head was swimming pleasantly, and he grinned over at the guy who he was pretty sure was named Toby. </p><p>“Look what Jessica’s sister brought,” Toby said excitedly as he held up a baggy with a bunch of tiny perfectly round blue pills. “She’s like the fucking tooth fairy, I swear to God,” He crowed as he handed a pill to Harley and one to Tasha. Tasha glanced over at Harley nervously, and Harley didn’t say anything until Toby left, probably to go distribute the pills to the other partygoers. </p><p>Harley looked down at the pill he had clutched in his palm. It had a ‘5’ etched big in the center, with a smaller ‘325’ carved under it. Harley recognized the pills from health class. It was percocet. </p><p>Tasha finished the joint and then stubbed it out on a spare plate that everyone had been using as a makeshift ashtray. “I’m gonna go see what Josh is up to,” She told Harley in a small voice before handing him the pill she had been given. “I’m good with just weed.” </p><p>Harley nodded dumbly as he watched her scamper off. He took in the scene of the party going on around him as he stared at the now two pills in his hand. It felt like an old cartoon where there was an angel and devil sitting on his shoulder arguing over what he should do. He stared at it for entirely too long before he said, “Fuck it,” and swallowed one down dry. He tucked the other one into his weed grinder for safekeeping, figuring that even if he hated how it made him feel he could probably sell it to someone at school for a couple of dollars. </p><p>The next twenty minutes passed slowly as he waited anxiously for it to kick in, to see how it would feel. He didn’t feel anything for the first while and was gonna accuse Jessica’s sister of being an idiot and buying counterfeit pills when it started washing over him in waves. He went out to the back deck where the pool was, and where it was relatively empty. He sat down on the edge as his eyes went half-massed, and the ribbons of euphoria made their way through his bloodstream. </p><p>For a blissful while he didn’t feel anything. Nothing at all. He laid out flat, head facing the water, and started swirling circles in it with his pointer finger. He watched for what felt like hours as his finger caused ripples in the pool. </p><p>It wasn’t until later, much later, when Joey was helping him into his house quietly, because he was too fucked up to stand, that he pulled the grinder out of his pocket. He opened it once Joey had gone home and looked at the little pill inside of it. Harley didn’t understand alcohol, but he understood this. He would do anything to feel nothing again. </p><p>It wasn’t an all-or-nothing type beat, at least in the beginning. It was more gradual. As the low simmer of Harley’s misery built so did his coping mechanisms. It wasn’t until right after he turned 16 that he was sneaking out to parties every single weekend, coming back high, drunk, or sometimes something worse. </p><p>He bought from Jessica’s sister for a while until she left town. Then, he bounced around various dealers getting wildly different qualities. He tried a little bit of everything, and never turned down a pill if it was offered. He passed out in so many different basements he lost track. He could tell that his Mom was catching on to his worsening attitude and sunken eyes. Hell, even he had noticed the weight he had lost and how he was able to count most of his ribs without sucking in anymore. None of that mattered. All that mattered was how he could get rid of the emptiness inside of him, even if it was just for a night, or however long the drugs in his system lasted. </p><p>He got a job bagging groceries at the mini-mart downtown. Most of the people that he worked with were college burnouts who sold and did drugs whenever they weren’t showing up for a shift. He bought baggies of pills in the parking lot whenever he got off work with the money he made from his minimum wage. He knew that he couldn’t keep up the delicate balance forever, and eventually there would be a tipping of the scales. </p><p>It was a month before his 17th birthday when he ran out of money. </p><p>He needed a fix so bad that his hands were shaking and he could barely see straight. He had nearly crashed his bike 10 times on his way over to Tyler’s apartment. He wasn’t the best of dudes, but his shit was always pure, and Harley knew he could deliver. </p><p>Once Harley climbed up the steps he walked along the railing until he got to the door that led to Tyler’s apartment. He rang the doorbell as he fidgeted with his hoodie and dug his fingers into his palm so hard he nearly drew blood. When Tyler opened the door he followed him inside, chewing on his lip. </p><p>Tyler went back to his room as Harley waited anxiously in the foyer. He didn’t have any money, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. All he knew was that he needed another pill. He <em>needed</em> everything to stop. He bit his thumb as he waited for Tyler to come back out. After a few tense moments, Tyler came back out with a baggy full of familiar pills. He sat them down on the coffee table and glanced at Harley expectantly. </p><p>“I can pay you back next Friday. That’s when I get paid,” Harley told him, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. </p><p>Tyler sucked on his teeth and grabbed the pills back up, before Harley had a chance to reach for them. “You still owe me for last time.” </p><p>Harley’s stomach dropped. “Right. I know that. Just- ... I can pay you back next week.” </p><p>Tyler shook his head. “And what’s in it for me?” </p><p>Harley’s eyes widened as he took in the setting of what was going on. “W-what do you mean?” </p><p>Tyler shrugged. “How bad do you want ‘em, kid?” </p><p>Harley bristled, and brought the sleeves of his hoodie down to hide his hands. He wanted to hide from the situation completely, but knew he’d be right back here tomorrow if he didn’t leave with the pills that he needed. “What do you want?” </p><p>“I heard you gave Colson head at the bonfire party a few months ago,” Tyler said, as Harley’s face burned. “You any good?”</p><p>Harley counted to 10 in his head. He thought about a lot of things in the time it took for him to count. He thought about his Mom, his Dad, and his sister. He thought about his one English teacher from the previous year who always had an absurd amount of faith in him and told him that he was capable of great things if he just put his mind to it. He thought briefly about Tony and his billions of dollars while here he was broke as shit and questioning his morals. He thought about Colson, who he’d had a crush on for a couple of months, who let him blow him at a party and then told him afterwards that he wasn’t gay, and that they probably shouldn’t do it again. Lastly, he thought about how shaky his hands were and how all of this would be over as soon as he got his hand on the pills. There were five in the baggy. If he paced himself he could last until next Friday when he got paid and he would never have to do this again. </p><p>With that resolve in mind, he closed his eyes and dropped to his knees. </p><p>| | |</p><p>When he left Tyler’s apartment he couldn’t stop wiping at his mouth, and how it felt dirty and raw. He got halfway down the street before he let his bike fall to the ground and bent over to wretch into the grass on the side of the road. He didn’t have much in his system so it was mostly just bile, but anything, literally <em>anything</em>, was better than the lingering taste of Tyler’s cum in his mouth that only served to remind him what he had let him do. </p><p>Once he gathered his wits back up, he was able to make it to the <em>7-Eleven</em> that was only a few blocks away from his house. He parked his bike in the bike rack outside half in a daze, feeling like he was no longer inside his body. He went into the bathroom with his hood up, and made sure nobody else was inside. He wiped down the edge of the sink with soap, and dried it meticulously with the thin paper towels from the machine. He took one of the pills out of the baggie and smashed it until it was basically powder. He spread it with his finger into a line on the edge of the sink and snorted all of it in one go. </p><p>As soon as he did he felt the immediate head rush and stinging pain in his nasal cavity that made his eyes burn and well up with tears. He grabbed onto the sink for dear life as he took several deep breaths. He looked up and finally made eye contact with himself in the mirror. His hair was a messy tangle, and greasy, on top of his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was red, as well as his mouth, which looked rubbed raw. In a certain light, it could have been enticing, but Harley knew that he just really looked wrung out. </p><p>He glared at his reflection in the mirror until someone else walked into the bathroom. Harley froze in place and waited till the guy took his position at one of the far down urinals. “Whatever,” he whispered to his reflection as he turned around and left the bathroom, wiping at his nose with the bottom of his hoodie sleeve. The moment he reached his bike he felt it start to kick in and he breathed out a sigh of relief as the telltale rush he had gotten used to spread from his head down his shoulders, all the way to his toes as his chest flooded with warmth. </p><p>He just had to make it until next Friday, and then everything was going to be okay. </p><p>| | |</p><p>The thing was, Harley was a pretty angry person. He wasn’t angry all the time, but the slightest thing could set him off. He had a temper like his Dad, and it was always hard to stop himself from doing something rash, or impulsive. His Mom liked to say that he thought with his fists before his head. His anger was more like a low simmer, on a backburner constantly until something set him off and he snapped. It had only gotten worse since he started the pills, but so had everything in his life. He knew he had a problem, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stop. </p><p>Harley had been getting into fights at school for almost as long as he could remember. There was a day in elementary school where he had to wait outside the principal's office with a split lip and torn-up knuckles. He could hear his Mom crying through the door, he could hear her saying how tough it had been since Harley’s Dad had left and it made him feel awful. But, it also kind of just made him want to punch stuff more. </p><p>Kids at school were mean, but all kids who are growing are mean, and seem to have endless bouts of nasty shit to say. They picked on Harley because he was weird, and nerdy, and his Dad had left. There wasn’t even a divorce like some of the other kids in his class. He didn’t have elusive tales of two Christmases, or weekends at his Dad’s - all he eventually got was Tony Stark showing up in his garage when he was 9, before he fucked off just like everybody else. Sure, he had decked out his garage, but that didn’t mean much. Tony was a fucking billionaire, it was probably the equivalent of him giving a homeless kid on the street a 5 dollar bill. </p><p>Harley got better at learning how to deal with his anger. He also got better at not getting punched, and throwing his own. He learned how to hide bloody knuckles, or bloody noses, and only got pulled into the office a handful of times. They made him go to the school counselor and she said it was a coping mechanism; that the violence was a way for him to act out and ask for attention. Harley thought she was mostly a quack who didn’t actually give a shit about the kids she was supposed to be helping. The fighting had been self-defense, but the pills? He could admit that those were probably the coping mechanism. </p><p>Harley thought about his school counselor as he locked the door to his room and threw the baggy of pills that he had worked so hard for into his nightstand, under a pile of books he was supposed to be reading for class and knew he never would. He wondered what she would think of him now, or what he had done. He laughed mirthlessly at the picture of her horrified face as he told her that the school system had failed him, just like his Dad, and just like everybody fucking else. </p><p>Despite everything, his grades were good. Harley was smart. He <em>knew</em> he was smart, and that was half of his problem. He stopped having to try in school after the second week of 6th grade. He always showed up, and always finished his work though, even if he was working on his projects high out of his fucking mind. He usually wrote his best papers that way. </p><p>Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he thought about his Dad. He thought about what his Dad would say to him and his pills. Maybe an outsider would draw parallels to him and his Father, from one addict to another. He wasn’t anything like his Father, though. Yeah, Harley had a problem, but he was still here, still doing the shit he was supposed to be doing. He was still a functioning member of society as far as he was concerned and hadn’t ran away as soon as things had gotten tough. His Father was a coward and that’s all he’d ever be. </p><p>Sometimes though, sometimes, in the dead of night when he was shaking and sweating from either a comedown, or withdrawal, he would try to discern if his Dad would be sad, if he even gave a shit at all. He wondered if he would be disappointed. </p><p>Whenever those thoughts took hold he would just text one of his friends to see if a party was going on, and there usually was. He’d smoke a joint, or take a pill that was offered and suddenly he’d forget all about the thoughts that had previously been consuming him.</p><p>But the thing about all of his anger is that he would gladly take it over the sadness. There was a hole inside of him. He wasn’t quite sure when it formed, but it was there. It threatened to consume him whole on nights he was alone and could only stare at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom. The only time when he didn’t feel empty was when he had some chemical pumping through his veins. So that became his thing. </p><p>He couldn’t ignore though, how it was hurting everyone he loved. Abbie and his Mom never said anything, but sometimes it was like they knew. They would give him a look with their sad eyes like they wanted to help him, like they somehow had the capability to heal him. When he came home on certain nights, pupils blown and speech slurred, his Mom would look at him like he was his Father. </p><p>Maybe he was slowly becoming his Father. </p><p>Either way, it hurt, and he couldn’t stop. The only thing that didn’t hurt anymore was the dizzying rush he got whenever he snorted the pills that he had come to love so much. </p><p>There was one night that Harley could remember. He had slammed his bike on the front porch a little hard, and had made a little too much noise coming in through the window of his bedroom. He was high as shit and the world was thick, but buzzing around him. He changed out of his jeans into an undershirt, his hands fumbling and not working right, like they were no longer connected to his brain. When he finally finished his task he stumbled out into the hallway to go to the bathroom before he could pass out for school in the morning. </p><p>As soon as he got to the door of the bathroom he could hear his Mom talking in the living room, and he froze. Her voice was muffled, but he could still make out what she was saying. It sounded like she was on the phone with someone, which wouldn’t be an unusual occurrence for her, especially at this time of the night. It always made Harley smile whenever he would come home and she would be gabbing excitedly with one of her girlfriends, or spilling town gossip. This time, however, Harley could tell she wasn’t chatting with her friends. </p><p>“He’s just been so withdrawn. I know he sneaks out of the house almost every night and I don’t know if I should let him have his freedom or be concerned.” Harley heard her say, her voice sapped, and weary. “He’s <em>so</em> bright. You know that. I’m worried that’s going to be what gets him.” She paused for a while, so someone else on the phone must have said something. Harley took that time to let his head fall against the door of the bathroom. </p><p>Harley had a feeling the conversation was about him and it made him sick. His fuzzy brain was taking in all the words she was saying and knew that he didn’t want her to feel that way. He didn’t want her to worry. But he also couldn’t <em>stop</em>. His brain was whirring all the time and the only thing that ever gave him peace; a fucking reprieve, stopped the voice in his head - the one that sounded like his Father, the one that told him he was a waste of space, that he was nothing - were the pills that he took, or snorted, whichever was easier, or quicker, really. At least when he was high he was a <em>good</em> nothing.</p><p>“No, I know. And he’s so good sometimes. He’ll be happy and chatty, and he’s always been so good with Abbie...it could just be a teenager thing. Sometimes I’m just at a loss. I know he needs something, but I don’t know what that is.” </p><p><em>The world to stop turning</em>, Harley thought, with a sudden flash of vengeance. If there was one thing he could write on his Christmas list it would be for the world to stop turning, and for him to stop breathing. But that would <em>definitely</em> cause his Mom more concern and he didn’t want that. </p><p>He didn’t want to listen to the conversation anymore, so he made sure to open the bathroom door obviously, and took a few stomping steps inside, hitting his hand on the counter in the process, that way she would be alerted to his presence in the hallway. </p><p>He couldn’t make out her voice after that. </p><p>Harley stared at his face in the mirror. He took in his red eyes, pupils swallowing his irises, skin pale and sickly. At one point he might have been something to look at, with sweeping blonde hair, and a crooked grin that his Mom used to always pinch and say was her favorite. </p><p>He didn’t look like that anymore. </p><p>He didn’t even look like himself anymore. His outside finally matched his inside - a hollow shell of someone pretending to be a person. </p><p>When he got out of the bathroom his Mom was no longer on the phone, and he couldn’t pretend to be anything other than absolutely exhausted, so he shuffled into his room and fell back onto his bed. He played the words she had said on the phone call over and over again in his head until he fell asleep. </p><p>| | |</p><p>Harley was smart, brilliant, actually, that was the thing. School was a breeze, but he knew that even though he kept his grades up, every time he snuck back in through his bedroom window his Mom was disappointed in him. He knew that she had no idea what he was doing, but she also wasn’t stupid, and somehow knew he was close to doing something that would throw his life away. </p><p>If only she knew that <em>this</em> was the only way he could keep on living. If only she knew he probably would have slit his wrists in the bathroom if those tiny little blue pills hadn’t kept him company, and drove away all the malicious clawing thoughts that flickered through his brain constantly. </p><p>Harley had an affinity for building things. He also had an affinity for hacking, which would have been worrisome if he wasn’t good enough to hardly ever get caught. After he burned his bridges with Tyler he started exploring his other options. Hacking into the local hospital’s database was so easy it was almost laughable. </p><p>He quickly learned it was going to be a dead-end because they kept all their opioids in a <em>Pill-O-Matix</em> which was an automatic drug dispenser that used doctors’ credentials to unlock it. Even if Harley could somehow bypass it he would have to disable the security cams, and it wasn’t something he could do on a regular basis. It wasn’t worth it. </p><p>After that, he did some digging into his local pharmacy, but that was mostly a dead end as well. Their computer systems were out of date, but most of their pill tracking was manual, as it was a tiny small-town pharmacy. If any of their opioids went missing they would surely be noticed. </p><p>So Harley started bouncing around dealers again. He knew it was dangerous. But the hole inside of him was just as, if not more dangerous, so he knew what he had to do. He got shitty pills from freshmen with older siblings that dealt; who didn’t know the worth of what they were selling. On one occasion he got a set of pills of Oxy that were cut with speed that made his heart race and he felt like he was having a low-grade heart attack for hours. </p><p>He didn’t want to be this way - a junkie. But he found something that worked when nothing else had. He could feel himself getting worse and worse and knew rock bottom was just around the corner. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know if it was a sick desire to actually hit rock bottom and to see what that felt like, or if his own self-control had finally waned to a point of no return. </p><p>It all came to a head a week before his high school graduation. </p><p>Graduation parties were popping up all over the place, and Harley wasn’t about to miss any of them. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to see his friends (friends that he could barely even call friends anymore because he didn’t really talk to anyone who wasn’t going to eventually sell him drugs). </p><p>It wasn’t even that he wanted to have a nostalgic cry fest with all the people who had tortured him his entire adolescence. He just wanted to get as smashed as possible so he could forget everything. Then he wouldn’t have to think about college, which he couldn’t afford, or all of the stress that came with being on the cusp of adulthood. </p><p>He could tell that something was off as soon as he took the first pill. He got high quicker than usual, and he also felt higher than what was normal. He relished the buzz, every second of it, and used his impairment as an excuse as to why he took another one, and another one once it was offered. He was never one to turn down free drugs. By the time the third one kicked in he could barely walk outside. He must have fallen on the grass lawn because one minute he was looking at the driveway that led to the house, and the next minute he was blinking up at the night sky. </p><p>He didn’t even realize that he was puking until someone was rolling him over with a bruising grip on his arms and back. The bile that had been clogging his throat rose and fell out of his mouth as he heaved and heaved. He puked into the grass for what felt like ages until he tried to focus his eyes and could only make out a vague blob of a person standing over him. </p><p>“Fuck, Harley,” he could hear the voice saying, but it was distant. It sounded like they were crying, but he couldn’t figure out why they would be crying. Harley opened his mouth to speak but when he did he only choked on bile once again until he was forced to spit it out in the grass. </p><p>A loud ringing was in his ears and all the talking he could hear was muffled and unintelligible. He started shivering violently and couldn’t stop. The hand that was holding him reached for something in the pocket of his jeans but Harley could barely feel it. He came back to himself enough to glance over with glassy eyes and recognized the person as Joey. Fuck. He shouldn’t be seeing him like this. </p><p>Joey had a phone pressed to his ear, and Harley tried to piece all the details together to figure out what was going on but it was hard to think. All he could feel was the sudden pounding in his head and how his whole body ached in a way that made him feel like he had just been run over by a semi. </p><p>It could’ve been hours later, or only a few minutes, time was passing weird for Harley. But suddenly he was seeing his Mom. She was pale as a ghost as her face floated in front of him, blocking his view of the night sky. “Mom?” Harley said, not quite believing what was in front of him. Just saying those words scratched against his raw throat and suddenly Harley was so, so tired. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up. </p><p>“Harley, baby.” His Mom said, her cool hands pressed against his face. He was burning up. When did that happen? “What did you take? We need to know what you took.” </p><p>“I didn’t take anything,” Harley mumbled out, his words barely coming out as sounds or words. His Mom must have understood because her face turned thunderous. </p><p>“What did you take!” She yelled, her voice turning shrill as she screamed. Harley winced and his eyes fell shut until someone was shaking him, causing him to blearily open his eyes again. His Mom and Joey were like little pale-faced moons over his head as he could hardly make out the details of their faces, or why they were looking at him like that, or why they were so concerned. Couldn’t Harley just go to sleep? </p><p>“...hospital,” He heard his Mom say distantly. Then jerkily he was being pulled up by two pairs of hands until he was upright. The movement jostled him and his head fell back painfully like a rag doll. The sudden motion caused him to start puking again, and he bent over and heaved on an empty stomach which only made his throat feel like it had been hacked at with razor blades. Every inch of his body hurt. </p><p>He didn’t realize he had been put into a car until he was laying in the backseat while Joey held his head, probably to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit again. This was one of his worst nightmares. He could hardly think but suddenly he was stuck in a spiral of guilt so strong that it choked him even further. He could taste the bile he had been throwing up all over his mouth and tongue, and could hear his Mom crying from the front seat. </p><p>He was so <em>sorry</em>. </p><p>Nobody should be seeing him like this. All he wanted was to go home and pretend like none of this was even happening.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Harley said, even though it was hard for him to talk. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to his Mom, Joey, or possibly both. “I’m sorry,” he kept saying in between the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” </p><p>That was the last thing he remembered before he fell asleep. </p><p>| | |</p><p>When Harley woke up he was in a brightly lit hospital, and was lying in a bed. He had various wires hooked to his arms and he felt like death warmed over. Once he was able to blink through the blinding lights and focus on the room he noticed Abbie and Mom, both sound asleep in their own respective guest chairs. A lump formed in his throat as it settled in his bones what had happened.</p><p>| | |</p><p>After his Mom woke up they fought for what felt like hours. Eventually, it led to her crying as she said she didn’t know what to do. The pills Harley had taken at the party had been laced with fentanyl, and they had caused him to OD. The doctors had told her that he showed signs of having a long-term opioid addiction and would have to go through detox before he would be released. Harley had denied it vehemently until his Mom had told him to cut the bullshit. </p><p>In the time that it had taken him to recover he had missed graduation, and hadn’t been able to walk across the stage like the rest of his classmates. Harley pretended that it didn’t sting. </p><p>It was clear that his Mother didn’t know what to do with him, and Harley didn’t know what hurt worse, the fact that she looked at him differently now, or the fact that he had hurt her so deeply. It wasn’t until he went through the detox with gritted teeth and false promises that he would stay clean that he knew nobody really believed, that he was able to go home. </p><p>When Harley got to his room, he stopped short in the doorway and stared. All of his stuff had been packed up into bags that were sitting on his bed. He turned to look at his Mom, who was only a few feet behind him, with betrayal and fear. Was she kicking him out? </p><p>Instead of answering him right away, her eyes trained on a picture that was hung up in the hallway, just a little ways down from the entryway to Harley’s bedroom. It was a baby picture of him. His blonde hair was platinum then, but still tangled at the top of his head like a bird's nest, and he had a wide smile on his face that was completely toothless and all gums. He could see the tears welling in his Mom’s eyes as she turned back to face him. </p><p>“When you first mentioned that you wanted to take a gap year I got in touch with Tony. He gave me his number years ago and said to call if we ever needed him. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if the number was still going to work. I thought it might do you good to go and see him.” Her voice trembled then, “Lord knows he has more resources than I do.” A tear trickled down her cheek, but she continued. “I know you’re not happy here, baby. You haven’t been happy for a while, and I don’t...I don’t know what to do.” </p><p>Harley tried to let her words sink in, but they weren’t making any sense. “Since when does Tony give a shit about me?” </p><p>“Oh sweetie,” His Mom said, eyes sad. “He’s always been keeping tabs on you. He wants what’s best for you.” She seemed to gather herself together then, and her voice was less wobbly when she said, “I think a change of scenery will do you good. You have a flight to New York tomorrow morning, so you should probably get some rest.” </p><p>Harley balled his hands into fists at his sides and glared at the bags that had been packed for him. He was a problem who was being shipped off to New York because his Mom no longer knew how to handle him. He wasn’t sure what Tony fucking Stark was going to be able to do for him. The fact that he had been keeping up with Harley and how he was doing hit him as a shock because he genuinely thought that the man had forgotten about him, or at least, didn’t care for him anymore. He didn’t know how to handle the information that not only did Tony in fact care about him, but cared about him enough to open his home to him and want to help him. </p><p>“And what if I don’t want to go to New York?” Harley tested, because he always had to push.</p><p>His Mom only pursed her lips sadly. “It’s not negotiable.” She closed his door then, he guessed to give him a semblance of privacy. Not like it mattered, he was sure his room had been cleaned of all his stashes, and all his shit was packed up anyway. </p><p>Harley punched his pillow repeatedly, and screamed into it a few times before he ended up curled up in his bed and staring unblinkingly at the wall. If he was miserable in Tennessee he doubted New York was going to be much better. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. And Then He Meets Peter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What Harley had been expecting when they stepped in the lab was to see a bunch of gleaming tech, maybe an impressive holographic screen or two. What he hadn’t been expecting was to see one of the most gorgeous boys he’d ever laid eyes on bent over a lab table fiddling with the schematics of something that looked complicated and had Harley’s brain already whirring, wanting to figure it out. </p><p>The boy glanced up, startled at the noise of other people entering the lab and when he did, Harley found his breath catching in the back of his throat. Harley had thought he was beautiful when he hadn’t been looking at him, but now that he could see his big, brown doe eyes, Harley could barely focus on anything else.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to anyone who's given this a read so far, and encouragement. I have to thank V, of course, and Sage, and Abigail for being rockstars with love, support and encouragement. Wouldn't be here without the server either, so many thanks to them. I hope everyone's having fun, because things are just getting set into motion :)</p><p>Gratuitous, <em>and then he met Peter</em> chapter because that's how all my fics go and it's a thing for me. </p><p>As always, here's your mix. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=urF7LT6tGfs&amp;list=PLV9UiZdIJdG7_mL2HY7K0SdiOJvX84FQ3">Mix 2; Chapter 2</a><br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p> “You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.”<br/>

- Richard Siken</p>
</blockquote><p>| | |</p><p>Harley had never been to an airport before, he realized, as he bypassed security and was ushered to his gate. He had never even been on a plane before. They never had enough disposable income to go on vacations when he was growing up, and even when they had left the state they usually chose to drive wherever they were going. </p><p>Harley didn’t know what to really expect when he got on the plane. He certainly hadn’t expected a <em>private</em> plane. But he supposed <em>Tony</em> had enough disposable income that he could just fly anyone out to his choosing. </p><p>When Harley got on the plane and sat in one of the seats by a window, he couldn’t help but get stuck on how fucking poor he felt. He felt like a rentboy with his ripped jeans and disintegrating backpack. The suitcase that they had loaded into the plane was worn and floral. It actually belonged to his Mom, but she had packed it because it was the biggest suitcase they had. </p><p>As soon as it took off he gritted his teeth and he did his best to ignore how his ears were popping. He wanted to go to sleep like everyone recommended, but it was hard. What he wouldn’t do for a xan or two, just to get him through the flight and dial everything back. </p><p>Eventually, they landed, even though Harley had a white knuckle grip on his seat’s armrest the entire time until they teetered to a halt, much more violently than he had been expecting. His eyes were gritty and he was in desperate need of a shower, but he got off the plane and somehow made it to the baggage claim. He would have been an idiot to expect Tony to pick him up at the airport. Tony, who he hadn’t seen in nearly eight years, who surprisingly actually cared about his well-being and wanted to help him out. Harley still had trouble wrapping his brain around that fact. </p><p>Harley hadn’t been expecting Tony to pick him up at the airport, so he didn’t know why he felt crestfallen when an overly serious man in a suit picked him up. The man introduced himself with a short grunt of “Happy” before he threw Harley’s bags into the trunk of a car that probably cost a year’s worth of college tuition at Harvard. </p><p>Harley sat in the backseat uncomfortably as he attempted to not dread the trek to the Tower, or the reunion he was going to have with Tony. That is, if Tony actually was going to take the time out of his busy schedule to see Harley. He still wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t all just an elaborate charity case scheme. </p><p>Harley was here because he didn’t have a choice, but he wouldn’t stand being pitied. He fucked up, but he wasn’t a junkie for Christ’s sake. </p><p>When they got to the Tower, Happy showed him to his room which was large, but also bare. Harley didn’t know if it made him lonely, or glad that he was expected to personalize it all himself. Happy was under strict orders, it seemed, to give him a tour of the Tower and get him acquainted with everything. </p><p>Harley was exhausted, and covered with a light sheen of sweat and all he wanted to do was collapse into bed and sleep for the next 12 hours. He also would give his right arm for a percocet right about now, but he wasn’t dumb enough to announce that fact, he only admitted it to himself quietly in the comfort of his own head. </p><p>The tour was pretty boring and Harley did his best to search out some excuse to get out of the rest of it when Happy insisted that they make a stop at the lab before he would let Harley off to his own devices. Harley wasn’t in the mood, but he also wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to see Tony’s state-of-the-art lab. He was a science geek down to his very core after all. </p><p>What Harley had been expecting when they stepped in the lab was to see a bunch of gleaming tech, maybe an impressive holographic screen or two. What he hadn’t been expecting was to see one of the most gorgeous boys he’d ever laid eyes on bent over a lab table fiddling with the schematics of something that looked complicated and had Harley’s brain already whirring, wanting to figure it out. </p><p>The boy glanced up, startled at the noise of other people entering the lab and when he did, Harley found his breath catching in the back of his throat. Harley had thought he was beautiful when he hadn’t been looking at him, but now that he could see his big, brown doe eyes, Harley could barely focus on anything else. </p><p>The boy’s eyes widened as he stared at the pair of Harley and Happy with alarm. It was so cute it made something hurt deep in Harley’s chest. The boy had medium brown hair that curled up in little waves around the top of his head and ears. A few stray strands fell over his face and into his eyes as his mouth opened and closed, as he clearly struggled to find something to say. </p><p>Harley hated awkward silences so he couldn’t help but say, “Did your Mom ship you up here too?” </p><p>The boy’s brow furrowed in absolute confusion, and Harley had to admit he was delighted by how endearing it was. The boy seemed to wear every emotion he had on his face. “No, I uh- what?” </p><p>Happy rolled his eyes, apparently sick of the pair of them already. “Peter, this is Harley, he’s a new intern of Tony’s. I have work I need to do - make sure you guys don’t kill each other.” </p><p>Harley scowled a little bit at being called an intern, but it dissipated as soon as Peter shot him probably one of the brightest grins he’d ever seen. “I’m an intern too, that’s <em>so</em> cool.” </p><p>“I’m not really a-” Harley started, then wilted under Happy’s sudden penetrating glare. “Right. It’s uh, it’s nice to meet you.” Harley finished lamely. </p><p>Maybe Happy had a point. It probably wouldn’t start him out on the right foot if he opened with the fact that the only reason he was there right then was because Tony had formed a weird attachment to him, and that his Mother had sent him away because of a drug problem. He could practically already see Peter running for the hills due to that admission. </p><p>Harley turned so that he could look at Happy and was no longer being blinded by the unfairly attractive boy in front of him. “Is that the end of my tour? Am I allowed to pass out in my room now?” </p><p>Happy narrowed his eyes at him, obviously not pleased with his word choice, but Harley probably did look pathetic. He was swallowed in an oversized hoodie, with jeans that were so baggy they nearly fell off his hips, and he knew his under-eye bags were pronounced, causing two deep purple bruises to sag underneath. He felt tired, and no doubt looked just as exhausted. Happy appeared to take that in and relented. “Yeah kid, let’s get you back up to your room.” </p><p>It was most likely Harley’s imagination when he noticed that Peter seemed to deflate at the prospect of him leaving so soon. Harley decided not to dwell on it because he was too focused on finally getting to be horizontal. Once he got up he would have to sneak out and head to a nearby skate park or something and scope out his options. </p><p>He had a lot more people to potentially buy from in a big city like New York, but he was at a distinct disadvantage because he didn’t know anyone yet, and didn’t have the same connections he had in Tennessee. He would have to figure out the dealer scene and make friends, all the while avoiding the watchful eyes of Tony or whatever bodyguard he’d probably outfit him with. It would take a lot of planning, but Harley was up for the challenge. </p><p>When he got up to his room, he didn’t even take the time to unpack anything, or shower, even though he knew he would feel better once he did. Instead, he reached inside his suitcase messily, and pulled out a fresh pair of boxers and a baggy t-shirt. He shrugged out of his dirty clothes and pulled the fresh ones on. It wasn’t as good as a shower but the clean clothes did bring him some relief. He didn’t even have the energy to unpack anything else as he slumped down onto the bed, and promptly fell asleep.</p><p>| | | </p><p>When Harley woke up he was in the mood to test his boundaries. </p><p>He had a buzzing underneath his bones that made his skin feel stretched out and thin, like it hadn’t been made to fit his body, and his mouth stayed dry, no matter how many sips he took from the water bottle he had stolen from the kitchen. </p><p>It was the beginning of June, and already hot in New York, but nowhere near as thickly humid as Rose Hill could be, next to all the lakes, so Harley felt fine shrugging on a long-sleeved shirt underneath the t-shirt he had been wearing to sleep. His jeans had been fresh that morning, and weren’t in need of a wash yet, so Harley didn’t question slipping them back on. </p><p>He may be newly 18, but he was still 18, and he could go out if he damn well pleased. He wasn’t a prisoner here.</p><p>(It was also mostly to scope out how much free reign he’d have to meet up with dealers and buy, but he wasn’t going to admit that to himself, because that would mean he would have to admit that he had a problem. Harley had a fix, finally, for all the God-awful shit that had been haunting him for years, he sure as hell didn’t have a <em>problem</em>.)</p><p>His first destination was the skatepark. He had done some googling and there was one that wasn’t too far away. He would have to take the subway, but he was pretty confident that he would figure it out. He grabbed his phone, even though he was going to disconnect all of the location features as soon as he stepped off the subway, and his wallet, even though the only thing inside of it was the $18 his Mom had given him for food before his flight. Harley hadn’t bought any food, and it had originally been a twenty before he spent $2 on gum so he could focus on literally anything other than how nauseous he was. </p><p>There wasn’t much he was going to get, especially for $18, when he didn’t even know how much the subway was going to be, but he prayed that he’d have at least $10 left so that he could buy a gram of weed. If he couldn’t even smoke a joint soon he really would slit his wrists in the bathroom. He’d like to see the reaction of whatever maid Tony had on retainer for the Tower, cleaning up that mess. </p><p>And okay, look, he knew he was being morbid, and a downright ungrateful asshole, but he had never asked for any of this. He himself hadn’t talked to Tony in years, and he wasn’t sure what Tony’s sudden reinterest in him was supposed to communicate with him. He wasn’t looking for another Father figure, and sure as hell didn’t want to play the role of tortured son who Tony had convinced himself he could save. He wasn’t a goddamn charity case. He didn’t know what Tony wanted, or what he was looking to get out of the whole thing. It put him on edge. </p><p>Everything seemed to put him on edge anymore. </p><p>Harley left his floor, and took the elevator down to the lobby. He couldn’t wrap his head around living in a place like this. Even when you got to the homey more lived in parts of the Tower it still didn’t look like a house, or even an apartment. It was like going home and living in an Office Building. Harley couldn’t imagine living somewhere where there were so many people, constantly. He snuck out the front door without even a glance from the receptionist at the front desk, and Harley allowed a little thrill to go through him as he started making his way down the street towards the subway station. </p><p>Harley’s smile nearly cracked his face when he checked out the fare and figured out that coming and going would cost him less than $4. Maybe he could talk whoever he found into giving him a deal for a gram and a half, even though he’d be a dollar short. The subway was weird, and louder than Harley was anticipating, but he survived his trip down unscathed. </p><p>When he got to the skatepark he was delighted to find that it was pretty packed, and had different groups of people clustered around. Harley didn’t pay much attention to all the different faces, and instead was focused on finding someone who looked like they’d know who was dealing. He ended up setting his sights on a group of guys who were sitting in a huddle by one of the half-pipes. They had on the usual stoner garb, and half of them had their eyes half-lidded. Bingo.</p><p>Harley headed over to them, and greeted them like he was familiar with them, hopefully they wouldn’t catch on that he wasn’t from the area. “Hey guys, what’s up,” He said, hoping that it came out smooth. </p><p>None of the guys even seemed to bat an eye at his presence as they welcomed him warmly. “What’s up, dude,” the one guy said before he pulled Harley in for a handshake. </p><p>Harley did his best to keep up before he replied, “Nothing much, y’know. Do you know whose terf it is right now? I was hoping to score some G’s.” </p><p>The guy with blonde hair who had been sitting next to the handshake guy beamed at him. “Gavin’s got the good stuff right now. I think he’s still got supply and could probably cop you a deal if you head over. He’s got the purple backpack.” </p><p>Okay, maybe New York wasn’t going to be so bad. </p><p>Harley nodded, like the information was casual and made sense. He started scanning as nonchalantly as he could for someone in the park who had a purple backpack. It didn’t take him long to spot a guy a little ways back from the park, but not quite on the street. “Thanks, man,” Harley said earnestly, then paused. “Do you know if Gavin’s got any of the harder stuff?” </p><p>“Nah, Gavin’s just the weed man,” the brunette who was laying down in a <em>Thrasher</em> shirt spoke up. “Troy’s got the harder shit, but he won’t be back until tonight.” </p><p>“Cool,” Harley replied. “Appreciate it.” He pumped fists with the brunette before he threw a casual, “Stay safe,” over his shoulder as he descended down the street. </p><p>“You too, brother,” The blonde called, but Harley was barely paying attention at that point. </p><p>When he got over to the guy with the purple backpack, he shoved his hands into his pockets and was pretty straightforward. “Hey man, how much do you cop for a G?” </p><p>“Ten for a G, thirty for an eighth,” The guy informed him after squinting at him for a minute. </p><p>Harley tried to give him his most charming smile. “Could you spot me a G point five for fourteen?” </p><p>“You gonna be a repeat customer? ‘Cause I don’t do deals with just anyone.” Gavin told him. </p><p>“Yeah dude, I’ll probably be back in a day or two, and I’ll hit you up. I’ll definitely be getting an eighth then.” </p><p>Gavin pulled his phone out from his pocket. “Add me on snap so I can tell you where to meet up,” his eyes took on a humorous edge. “Unless you’re a cop.” </p><p>Harley let out a full on laugh at that as he pulled out his phone. He turned his data on just long enough to add Gavin on snap before he turned it back off. “C’mon, ACAB dude. We got a deal?” </p><p>Gavin started unzipping his bag before he glanced up at Harley, his hair falling into his face. “Sativa or Indica?” </p><p>“Indica,” Harley said decisively, and then he was being handed a small ziplock bag that was sealed tight, filled with weed. Harley eyed it for a second just to make sure he hadn’t been miffed, and then stuck it into his pocket. He chatted with Gavin for about another minute before he decided to head back. He asked about Troy and Gavin passed along his Snap to Harley so Harley wouldn’t have come back to the park later that night to look for him. </p><p>Harley had turned away and was almost to the street when he heard a voice say, “Harley?” </p><p>He whipped around so fast he nearly got whiplash, heart flying in his chest. To say that he hadn’t been expecting it would be an understatement. He was new to New York and hadn’t told anyone but Gavin his name.</p><p>Peter, the intern from the Tower, was standing a few feet away from him. He was in a blue sweater and jeans, not much different to what he had been wearing when Harley had seen him earlier. He had a board tucked under his arm and was giving Harley a confused expression. </p><p>“What are you doing here?” Peter said, looking around like he expected more people to come up around Harley. </p><p>Harley didn’t know what to say and was distinctly panicking over how much Peter had seen. God, why was this guy everywhere?  “Uhh, I was just here to...skate.” He winced as soon as he said it, and Peter only served to look at him more confusedly. </p><p>“Where’s your board?” Peter asked. <em>Great.</em> He was observant. </p><p>“Okay you caught me.” Harley said for lack of anything else to say. “I was trying to make friends.” He held his breath as he prayed Peter would buy it. Peter still looked perplexed, and a hint of suspicion crossed over his eyes as he scanned Harley before he relaxed. Then he was all sunshine again, giving Harley a tiny smile.</p><p>“Oh umm, that’s cool. There’s a lot of chill people who come here.” Peter said, and Harley already wanted to be done with conversation. His stomach was churning. He felt like a kid who got caught stealing candy from the local dime store, even though he was pretty sure at this point that Peter hadn’t seen anything. He was kind of pissed that Peter was clearly a regular at this skatepark, that meant he would have to be keeping an eye out for him whenever he came here for deals. Although maybe he could figure out different locations, now that he knew he would be watched here. </p><p>“Yeah I-” He was cut off by the loud searing sound of a car horn blaring right by them on the street. Harley about had a heart attack, while Peter jumped back as well in alarm. They both turned to look at the offending vehicle with wide eyes when Harley recognized the car that was parked there. It was the same car that had picked him up from the fucking airport. </p><p>Happy got out of the car and withered Harley with a glare. Harley really needed to know who gave him his fucking nickname so he could ask them what color they thought the sky was, because clearly they didn’t know what was up. “You just up and leave without telling anyone?” Happy said, not yelling exactly, but clearly not pleased. “You can’t just leave without letting someone know where you’re going.” </p><p>Harley felt a flash of anger go through him and he clenched his fists at his side. He didn’t need someone to be telling him what to do, least of all Happy, or fucking Tony. “I’m 18,” he said, close to a growl.</p><p>Peter blinked over at him as he watched the exchange.</p><p>“You-” Happy started, but Peter cut him off. </p><p>“He was with me.” Peter said suddenly. </p><p>Harley turned to look at him in disbelief at the same time Happy did. Peter shot Harley a look, and Harley closed his mouth. He was struck then by how attractive he was. He had noticed it when he had first met him, but now it was distracting, and almost all he could think about. His hair was messy and curled over his ears before several pieces curled into a little twist right by his eyes...and his <em>eyes</em>. They were big, and brown, and really endearing. Except right then they were shooting Harley a look that said ‘if you speak up and ruin this right now I will destroy you.’</p><p>“He was with me.” Peter said again, a little more firmly. “We were talking and I wanted to show him the skatepark so we’ve been hanging here.” Happy looked a little dubious so Peter continued, throwing out a pair of absolutely lethal puppy dog eyes for good measure. “I didn’t even think to let anyone know what we were doing. I’m sorry, Happy.” </p><p>Happy stared at him for about five full seconds before he deflated. He leveled Harley with a look that clearly communicated he didn’t quite believe him but he also couldn’t dispute it either, not with Peter looking so sorry and honest next to Harley. “It’s fine,” he said eventually, albeit a little stiffly. “Just don’t let it happen again. I have to take Harley back to the Tower,” he turned his attention to just Harley this time. “Tony wants to speak with you.” </p><p>Harley rolled his eyes. “Okay whatever, guess I have to go.” He turned to Peter, feeling oddly indebted to this guy for covering him. He couldn’t figure out what he wanted either, or why he would cover for him when he barely knew him and Harley had mostly just been a dick to him. “It was fun hanging out with you,” Harley said, meaning it a little too much. “We should uh, we should hang out again sometime.” </p><p>Peter’s smile was wide, then. “Yeah. For sure.” </p><p>| | |</p><p>When Harley got back to the Tower he had been told that Tony had wanted to talk to him, but then Tony had gotten dragged into a meeting that he couldn’t avoid. So, Harley got sent back to his room like he was a child. It made him want to grind his teeth. He wondered if putting a Rita Hayworth poster on his wall would communicate how much he felt like a fucking prisoner. </p><p>His blood seemed to simmer in his veins painfully. He just wanted to go <em>home</em>. But also <em>not</em> home, where his Mom would watch him, sad eyes gleaming as he’d shuffle to his room. Yeah, that didn’t sound so great, either.</p><p>Eventually, that evening he got dragged into having to attend one of the most awkward dinners of his life. He sat on a pristine, uncomfortable chair at the dining room table. They had something with salmon; it was leafy, green, and just looked expensive. It was good. Harley had never had salmon before. But it was all so <em>weird</em>. Him, in his baggy <em>Nirvana</em> hoodie, and jeans, while Pepper and Tony discussed something with contracts. He thought it was bad before they turned their attention onto him, but once they did it got worse. He didn’t belong here. Not at their fancy table, or in their <em>home</em>. </p><p>“How was your flight?” Pepper asked him, looking at him with kind eyes. “If you need anything in your room you can just ask.”</p><p>“It was fine,” Harley said, picking at his food. </p><p>“I heard you were hanging out with Parker,” Tony said. “You guys hit it off?”</p><p>Harley continued to stare at his plate. “He skates...so we went to the skatepark,” Harley told him, already exhausted with the conversation. </p><p>“He’s a good kid to be around,” Tony said, while Pepper nodded. Harley rolled his eyes. “Are you- is he-” he glanced back and forth between Harley and Pepper. “Are you giving me attitude?” </p><p>“No, Sir,” Harley clipped back, as Tony’s eyes narrowed. Harley couldn’t stop his leg from shaking under the table. The whole dinner was maddening, and he already bit the skin around his thumbs raw on the plane ride. </p><p>Tony stood up suddenly. “Alright, kid. Me, you, in the lab right now.” Harley stared at him with wide eyes as Tony came around the table and placed a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon,” He said, not really giving Harley a choice. </p><p>He shuffled Harley down into the lab. Harley followed him down the hallway and joined him in the elevator, shoving his hands in his pockets. The elevator ride was quiet, but sure enough, the silence was broken by the elevator doors sliding open so that they both could step into the lab, with Harley trailing behind. Harley couldn’t help glancing over at one of the tables. For a second, he saw Peter there, and how he’d looked startled to see him, like he’d been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. </p><p>Tony sat down on one of the chairs and spun it around to face him. His eyes were turned down and serious. “Alright. It’s just you and me, kid. Lay it all out for me.” </p><p>Harley shrugged, feeling even more distinctly uncomfortable. “There’s nothing to lay out.” </p><p>“Right,” Tony said in that tone that said he didn’t really believe him at all. “So we’re just going to ignore the fact that you overdosed.” </p><p>"Yeah," Harley squared his shoulders, and felt his jaw tick. “We are.” </p><p>“What’s going on with you?” Tony asked like it was a simple question. Like Harley could actually lay everything out for him. Like Harley knew the <em>answer</em> to his question. </p><p>“I’m surviving.” </p><p>“Yeah ‘cause your Mom calling me while you were on a ventilator is <em>really</em> surviving,” Tony shot back, and it made something in Harley snap. </p><p>“Why do you even fucking care?” Harley spat, feeling that familiar simmer of annoyance in the pit of his stomach. “You didn’t care then, not when I-” <em>needed you</em>, was on the tip of his tongue, but he would never say that. He wasn’t <em>that</em> pathetic. “Not then. So why now? Huh?” He clenched his jaw “What? Do you think you’re gonna save me? I’m fine, and I don’t need your help.” He didn’t even realize how angry he was until it had been brought up. </p><p>Tony was taken aback. “Kid-” </p><p>“Don’t fucking call me that,” Harley said darkly, and that made Tony’s lips twitch. </p><p>“Yeah,” He sighed, “Peter doesn’t like that either.”</p><p>Harley tried not to react to his name being brought up. He turned, so that he was no longer facing him, and started meandering around the lab. He didn’t want to deal with this subject anymore. “What’s his deal, anyways?”</p><p>“Who, Peter?”</p><p>Harley shrugged again. “You said he was an intern, but last time I checked, you don’t let your interns have full reign over your personal lab. So what gives? You got a secret son the press doesn’t know about?” </p><p>“He’s my...protegé I guess you could say. He’s a good one.” </p><p>Harley tried not to acknowledge the wave of jealousy at the word 'protegé' being tossed around. At one point he thought maybe- but that ship had sailed. Now, Tony probably only saw him as a junkie that he had to be responsible for. </p><p>“I’m not- it’s…” Harley started, the words getting lodged in his mouth. He felt like an idiot. Like a kid, and he hated it. “I’m not like, an <em>addict</em>,” the word was sour on his tongue. “It was just one time, and I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t know it was fentanyl.” </p><p>“We all make mistakes,” Tony said in that way that was supposed to be reassuring, but it just made Harley want to roll his eyes. “Just know that I’ve been there, and done all that. It doesn’t work. Drugs don’t...they don’t erase all the bad stuff you already have going on. One day they’ll run out and you’ll still have to face yourself. It’s a lot easier to do it sober.” </p><p>Harley <em>really</em> wanted out of this conversation. “Wow, have they recruited you for D.A.R.E yet? ‘Cause that was a great speech.” </p><p>“Jesus,” Tony sighed, like the whole talk was tiring him. It served him right. If he thought Harley was going to be anything other than a major brat then he had another thing coming. </p><p>Harley had never been one for hero-worship, and it had been a long time since he stopped relying on praise from Tony, because he knew he would never get it. Not with all the things he had done. Harley had served equal terms looking up to Tony, and being pissed at him. Harley could feel his hackles rising and the tension building. “It’s like looking in a mirror. Somewhere Howard is laughing from beyond the grave.”</p><p>Harley picked up a stray wrench from one of the tables and stared at it, so he wouldn’t have to meet Tony’s eyes. “Nuh uh, those are your Daddy issues. You can keep ‘em. I have enough of my own.” </p><p>“Keener-” Tony started, but Harley had had enough. </p><p>“I’m out,” Harley said, already making his way over to the elevator. “I’m too tired for this.” </p><p>“Harley-” Tony called out, like he was asking Harley to stop. Like somehow Harley was the one in the wrong here. The simmer passed anger, boiling over into rage until he squeezed his eyes tight and felt his hand clench into a fist. </p><p>Harley jerked around, probably looking wild-eyed and manic but he didn’t care. He didn’t <em>care.</em> “You could have called!” He yelled out before he thought better of it.</p><p>“Just once. You could’ve asked if I was okay. But you didn’t.” He scoffed. “You never even contacted me! Not an email? Nothing! So why am I supposed to believe that you care <em>now</em>?”</p><p>Tony rubbed his hands down his face, suddenly appearing a lot older. He suddenly was more like a man his age than the pristine face Harley would always see on TV. He looked like the helpless guy who had broken into his garage, eyes baggy, and life falling to shit. It made something pang in Harley’s chest. He had stopped searching for a Father figure a long time ago because he had learned to stop playing with matches. You always get burned, and even when one lights, it’ll just burn down your house anyway. </p><p>“Things weren’t good on my end for a while.” Tony said, like it was an admission. It sounded like he was finally taking responsibility for something, but Harley knew better than to rely on that. Harley had paid attention to the news. He knew all about the Accords, and how Captain America was a wanted war criminal of all people, and he also knew that somehow in the fall out of everything Tony’s best friend had ended up with prosthetic limbs. Harley knew in the back of his head the whole time that Tony hadn’t had time for him. <em>He knew that</em>. So he didn’t know why the admission hurt so badly. “I wasn’t in a position where I could help you. I was barely keeping things together at the Adult’s Table.” </p><p>Harley hated feeling weak. He didn’t need Tony to come in and save the day. Tony was never going to coddle him. He wouldn’t even have wanted it if he had offered, but he still couldn’t get over how he had been dropped, just like one of Tony’s projects. As soon as he wasn’t useful he was tossed aside. Harley was <em>always</em> the first one to get tossed aside. “So how’s the Kid’s Table turning out? Just like you imagined?” Harley sneered. </p><p>“Things turn out rarely how I imagine,” Tony said darkly, and a little self-deprecatingly. “But I thought you were good where you were. I never meant to-” he cut himself off, and Harley really wished he would finish his sentence, but he didn’t, so for a while they lingered in silence. “I thought you were good,” Tony repeated again eventually, albeit awkwardly, and Harley couldn’t help but twist at the double meaning there. </p><p>There were a million things that Harley wanted to say, and ask, things that he knew that he wouldn’t like the answer to. “You could have asked if I was okay.” He said instead, desperately hiding the crack in his voice. </p><p>Tony’s eyes were sad now. “Is that what you wanted?” </p><p>Harley scoffed wetly. He could feel tears brimming at the corner of his eyes and there was no way he was going to cry in front of Tony, so he continued over to the elevator. “FRI? Main floor, please?”</p><p>The doors opened right when Tony said, “Harley, are you okay?” </p><p>“It’s too late for you to ask me that,” Harley told him as the doors shut behind him.</p><p>| | |</p><p>When Harley got back to his room he really wanted to punch something. It would serve Tony right, to damage his property. But something cold settled in his chest at the thought, and he slumped down onto the bed instead. </p><p>He was being ungrateful. Tony was trying to help him, even if he didn’t want it. It wasn’t like Harley had ever reached out and told him he was suffering. But he had been a child. It should have been Tony’s responsibility to check on him if he cared so much. Harley wasn’t too fond of asking for help, either. </p><p>He still wanted to push Tony’s buttons though. He wondered how far he would have to push him to get him to finally flip, and kick him out. He thought of his Mom’s face then, and how sad she would be if he lost his one opportunity to get out. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed home, already. He didn’t miss the people, but he missed his room, and he missed his posters, and his bed, and the one squeaky strip in the hallway that always gave him away when he was trying to sneak out. He missed all of it. </p><p>He felt tears start to prickle at the back of his eyes. He wiped at his eyes messily and growled out a huff of breath. Fuck, he hated this. He checked the time on his phone. Tennessee was one hour behind, and it was a Thursday, so that meant Abbie would be in dance class. He’d have to wait another hour at the very least until she was home. So instead, his mind switched gears. </p><p>He went over to his hoodie from earlier and pulled out the baggie of weed that had been sitting in his pocket. He had a bowl and lighter that he had packed in his suitcase, wrapped in a sock. It was all a moot point, because he hadn’t even had to go through security. He mourned the fact that he hadn’t brought his bong, because if he knew he wouldn’t have to go through security he would have packed a lot more shit. He thought back to the plane ride. Every move Tony made had felt like a slap in the face and he didn’t know why everything hurt and made him feel small, but the point was that it <em>did</em>. </p><p>“FRI?” He called out, once he had everything. “Answer honestly. Is there any camera monitoring my room?” </p><p>“All rooms are monitored.” FRI chirped.</p><p>“Figured.” Harley muttered under his breath, his brain already whirring for what systems Tony was using and if he could get into the closed loop undetected. He’d have to find out the scope of the monitoring when he got back and his laptop was charged. In the meantime, there was no way he could smoke in his room without Tony or someone being alerted, or without there being a record of it. </p><p>He suddenly got a bright idea. This was New York after all, and if it was known for anything it was the view, right? “Hey FRI, what’s the monitoring situation on the roof?” </p><p>“Only heat signatures and code access records are set up for roof monitoring,” She told him brightly, and Harley smirked. She was clearly willing to give information as long as it wasn’t on a subject she was probably coded to avoid. Not that Harley couldn’t work around that. </p><p>“Do I have roof access, FRIDAY?” Harley asked, already making plans. </p><p>“You have full access.” </p><p><em>That</em> halted Harley. </p><p>“I really have full access?” He asked incredulously. </p><p>“Yes. You are free to go anywhere in the Tower, Harley.” FRIDAY said in her usual soft voice with no hesitance. </p><p>Harley swallowed the lump in his throat, and busied himself with putting everything in his pockets. It was just starting to get hot in New York, but Harley still kept on his <em>Nirvana</em> hoodie because he didn’t know how cold it was going to be on the roof, especially this high up. </p><p>Harley tip-toed out of his room as quietly as he could, and made sure that the coast was clear before he headed to the elevator. When the doors closed he said, “FRIDAY, can you take me to the roof?” </p><p>She didn’t answer, but the elevator started ascending, so Harley took that as a good sign. “Would you like Boss to be alerted to your location?” </p><p>“No,” Harley said immediately. “Could you add in an order that Boss is never to be alerted whenever I go to the roof?” </p><p>“Amendment added,” FRIDAY said kindly. </p><p>The elevator eventually led him to a penthouse floor that had a wall of windows and a spacious balcony, equipped with a medium-sized landing pad. Harley bypassed all of that and found a fire escape looking ladder near the side that led to the roof. The ladder was sturdy, and if he fell, he would only fall onto the balcony. It was hard not to think about how high up he was though, as he was climbing the ladder. </p><p>Once he got to the top it was just like any normal roof, but Harley was completely blown away by the view. It was incredible. He could see all the thousands and thousands of lights sparkling along the horizon in the dark. He could see all the buildings, but also all the streets, and cars that zoomed past, creating little tunnels of light from their speed. Harley could definitely get used to this. </p><p>When he sat down and started preparing his bowl he was really glad that he had worn his hoodie. There was a slight wind all the way at the top, enough to irritatingly blow out his lighter the first couple tries, but there was also a temperature drop purely due to the altitude. After a couple of hits Harley started to relax a bit, and he let his shoulders un-tense as he brought his knees up to his chest. His head started to feel cloudy and bleary as he let the high come over him. It wasn’t anything major, but it was still nice. </p><p>He smoked like that for a while. He didn’t waste any hits, and enjoyed how peaceful it was on the roof. Everything seemed so small and faraway. He eventually dumped out the ash from his bowl and scrunched over it with the bottom of his shoe. He only smoked a gram, and left the other half a gram for another time. He didn’t want to use all of it in one go, especially not when he wasn’t sure the next time he was going to have some spare cash. </p><p>He had just started to wrap up everything when he heard a loud crash that scared the shit out of him. He whirled around just in time to see a guy in a spandex suit and comically whited out wide eyes staring at him from a few feet away in clear panic. </p><p>“What the fuck!” Harley exclaimed. There was no way he was hallucinating this, but he also had no explanation for it. </p><p>“Oh shit,” He heard the guy say, and okay, he was a lot younger than Harley had been expecting. “<em>Harley</em>? Why are you-” The guy’s voice was even more high-pitched and panicky then. <em>Wait a minute</em>. Harley <em>knew</em> that voice. </p><p>“<em>Peter</em>?” He shouted, his brain felt like static, or like he’d been shocked. “What the fuck!” He said again, for lack of anything else. </p><p>The guy- well, <em>Peter</em>, peeled off his mask, which left his hair a mess as it flopped down into his face endearingly. “What are you doing on the roof?! No one’s ever on the roof!” </p><p>“Why are <em>you</em> on the roof!” Harley accused automatically. “And <em>why</em> are you dressed like that?!” He couldn’t figure out what the fuck Peter was wearing. He looked like he had just come from Comic-Con. Harley’s eyes did sort of widen as he raked over Peter’s body. The guy was tiny, with muscular thighs, and a slender waist. But Harley had never realized how fucking jacked he was under his sweaters and hoodies. </p><p>“You- I- I don’t, uh, I mean, I’m- wait...You don’t know who I am?” Peter stuttered before he eventually blinked at Harley even more incredulously. </p><p>“You’re Peter?” Harley said, but it came out more like a question. “Dude I don’t care if you’re into some weird cosplay shit just don’t scare me like that ever again. Jesus, fuck.” </p><p>“It’s not some weird cosplay thing!” Peter shrieked, sounding defensive. “It’s- look, I’m Spider-Man, okay?” </p><p>Harley let the silence after Peter’s admission stretch on for a handful of seconds. When Peter looked like he was on the urge of flinging himself off the building Harley finally said, “Okay but, who’s Spider-Man?”</p><p>“You’ve never heard of Spider-Man?” Peter asked, like Harley just said he enjoyed kicking puppies or something equally as evil. </p><p>“No,” Harley said simply. “Well…” he drawled when it appeared that Peter wasn’t going to say anything. “Are you going to fill me in?” </p><p>What Harley hadn’t been expecting was for Peter to sigh, and then plop down right next to him. “You know what? Nope. You can figure this one out on your own.” </p><p>“I was right,” Harley said just to be a dick, and laid down so he was looking up at the sky with Pete to his left. “It <em>is</em> a weird cosplay thing.” </p><p>“God shut up!” Peter laughed, and for some reason that made Harley smile. “Hold on,” Peter said, wrinkling his nose as he got closer, then his eyes got about the size of saucers. “Dude have you been <em>smoking up here</em>?” </p><p>Harley rolled his eyes, but tightened his grip on the bag in his pocket. Christ. He hoped Peter wasn’t a tattle-tale. “Why, you gonna tell on me?” </p><p>“No I-” Peter started, then Harley glanced over to look at him. Peter had been staring at him, but as soon as their eyes met he looked away hastily. “It’s just, who the fuck are you, dude? You said you were an intern but I’m calling bullshit.” </p><p>“Funny,” Harley said dryly. “I said the same thing about you about two hours ago.” </p><p>Peter stiffened. “How did you…?”</p><p>Harley shrugged, even though it was awkward with him still lying down. “Tony doesn’t let just anyone in his lab. So I knew you weren’t just an intern.” </p><p>“I could say the same about you,” Peter said. “I know you’re not an intern,” Peter proclaimed boldly, clearly proud of the fact he had figured something out. “So why are you really here?” </p><p>Harley hadn’t meant to, but he stilled at that question. It dug a little too deep, and hit a little too close to home for his liking. It was a slippery slope. If he told Peter one thing then he’d be obligated to tell him other things, things that he didn’t want anyone to know. He didn’t even know how to begin to explain his presence. </p><p>“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harley said softly after a tense minute. </p><p>“Oh um,” Peter faltered. “Yeah, that’s like, okay. You don’t have to tell me.” He seemed really nervous. </p><p>“Are you always this jumpy?” Harley asked, and that caused Peter to laugh - a full-on belly laugh with his head tossed back and everything. </p><p>“Yeah,” He said a little hysterically after a moment. “I kind of am.” </p><p>The honesty in that made something in Harley’s chest twinge. “Well, you don’t have to be twitchy around me. You can lie down if you want. It’s just you, me, and the sky.” </p><p>“You, me, and the sky<em>line</em>,” Peter muttered quietly, under his breath, but Harley still caught it. </p><p>“Yeah,” Harley quirked up his lips into something like a smile. “She’s pretty too.” </p><p>They both laid there for a while, watching the sky and the lights, not saying anything. Harley could hear every single one of Peter’s breaths, and how they were just a second behind his own. He held his breath to match his breathing just out of instinct. He remembered how he used to match the breathing of whoever he was next to at naptime when he was in Kindergarten. Sometimes it made him feel less alone. </p><p>Eventually the spell was broken and Peter had to leave, but he insisted that Harley climb down and go back before he did. Harley thought it was a lot of fuss just so he wouldn’t know which direction he had come from, but Harley indulged him. </p><p>He walked through the penthouse and took the elevator back down to his floor in a daze. He changed out of his clothes that smelled like weed and changed into a pair of pajamas. </p><p>Harley checked his phone and saw that the window to have called Abbie before she went to sleep had closed. </p><p>He traced the side of his screen for a second as he took in the fact that he didn’t feel as homesick as he had before. The throbbing in the back of his head had faded, and all he wanted to do was sleep. The last thing he thought about before he drifted off was a pair of brown eyes, and how they had glowed against the lights of the city.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>twitter - @alphabetblues<br/>tumblr - @alphabet-blues</p><p>let's talk parkner &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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